Dogs, Horses , Sheep, and Chickens

We jammed ourselves, once more, into the BMW, and headed down that misty road in search of another show. And we could be any happier if we tried.

Filthy Bug Encrusted Windscreens

On tour, as John C said from the driver’s seat: “every day is just: another day, another kettle.”

I pondered that thought, looked at down at my orange

breakfast

and remembered the great B&B, in Carlisle.

Lovely Margaret, of the Cherry Grove Guest Suite

Not all kettles are born equal.

Then again, kettles aren’t born.

But if they were, I wonder which came first: the kettle or the egg?

The debate is over.

At home (in Canada), today is Labour Day: a holiday in which people desperately try to cram in one more summer experience before resigning themselves the inevitability of autumn. It‘s one of the sadder holidays of the year- second only to Acceptance Of Mortality Day.

“Why is it that one day the coffee tastes better than the day previous?”

said John

“Why didn’t I have this headache yesterday?”

said Christine

Are we being followed?

said I

Touring is lost time- the kind of time you spend on an airplane or commuting. Some people think it’s glamourous, but there are way more glam jobs.

See?

I’ve had significant moments in pubs,

Demon eyes. Demonize. Demon ayes.

at the theatre,

Too sexy for the stage.

making an unexpected friend of a cat or dog

Sweet little purr-buckets

But, like blogging: it’s casually significant.

Whenever anything different happens out here it’s like a foreign holiday: “What’s all this about? Free fried squid in the piazza?! Hooray for Free Fried Squid in the Piazza Day!”